Shrouded in Darkness
by Kari-Kateora
Summary: When Jenny Shepard is in an accident, she loses something far more important than her job. Can Gibbs help her create her own light to fight back the suffocating darkness she's now immersed in?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I'm not particularly happy with the flow and tone of this first chapter. Hopefully, it'll level out in later chapters. This fic is set in season 5, after the Frog incident. It's important to note that jen is not sick in this – she'll have enough to deal with. Hopefully, future chapters will be longer._

This fic is dedicated to AliyahNCIS and Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs for being as awesome as they both are. ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own the show and am not profiting from this fanfiction.

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

No one ever said that being the first female Director of an armed federal agency would be easy. Jennifer Shepard had found that out the hard way. In her world of trousers, wearing the occasional skirt automatically meant that every other federal agency and politician underestimated her. Coupled together with the recent incident with the Frog, it was no wonder Jen looked so worn and stressed.

Her old partner sometimes worried about the redhead. He was aware of the long hours she put in her office, often staying until 2300 hours, and of the generous amounts of Bourbon she consumed in her study. Since his attempts at an intervention had gone awry during the case with the Frog, Gibbs had settled on making her everyday life a little bit easier, if he could help it.

A loud bang had Jen look up from her desk as her door slammed open. She regarded the silver-haired man that had entered over the rim of her reading glasses, which she soon set down when she noticed he was carrying a very special something.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't say anything when he placed a cup of coffee in front of her, regarding her with his characteristic half-smirk. Jen leaned back in her chair, returning the slight smile with poised eyebrows, fingers arched together elegantly. With her chin, she motioned to the cup he was holding for himself.

"It's almost eleven. That's your, what, seventh cup, Agent Gibbs?" she asked him playfully, wanting to keep his smile in place. "Thank you for the coffee, although I doubt it's the real reason you've barged into my office this particular morning."

"Got a dead petty officer down in Autopsy." he informed her, taking a sip of his drink. Still leaned back, Jen mirrored the gesture and, for a moment, the two were silent as they both enjoyed the warm sensation the caffeine brought as it ran down their throats. "Suspect won't answer the phone or door."

"And what's stopping you from kicking his door open, exactly?" she asked him, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "It's not like you usually respect the privacy doors usually symbolize." her eyebrows were now pointedly arched, amusement glittering in her green eyes. At the look on Gibbs' face, her eyebrows rose even more. "Don't tell me, you don't have a warrant?"

"Suspect's a CEO in an affluent business. Breaking in won't be that easy and Legal's sitting on their asses." he replied irritably, his frustration rising when he realized how much she was enjoying this.

"I'm glad to see that, for once, you decided to ask first." she told him, taking another long sip of her coffee and setting the cup down. The beverage had done wonders to lighten her mod. "I'll call some contacts to speed up the warrant." she told him, putting on her glasses again. She turned back to the file she was reading before she realized he was still there. "Yes, Jethro?" she asked him. He tilted his head to the side, gave her that infuriating half-smirk of his and walked out. Her door closed after him just as silently as she wished it would be opened.

Two hours later, Jenny pushed her papers away and leaned back in her chair, rolling her neck and wincing as the joints in her shoulders cracked. Her morning had been hectic and, barring Jethro's surprise visit, work had been hell. If it had been a month ago, she might have resorted to her stash of Bourbon to gain some liquid courage. At the thought, however, the redhead shook her head. She was trying to move past that chapter in her life. What she wanted was to return to what she was before Jethro's coma. That wasn't happening, however. He had left, and nothing would ever change that. Just as nothing ever changed Paris.

Still, she didn't have the time to be dwelling on past regrets. She had lunch with a Senator planned so, with a slight groan, she rose to check her make-u and leave. Her security detail would be waiting. For her downstairs in the garage, ready to escort her to the expensive restaurant the Senator had chosen. As she reapplied her lipstick, she sighed at the choice; she could never understand why the men she agreed to business with felt the need to try and impress her.

As she re-entered her room, her door slammed open once more, narrowly missing her. Gibbs only paused a second when he realized where she was standing; he had expected her to still be at her desk.

"I need that warrant, _Di-rec-tor._" he told her, stressing her title mockingly. His cobalt eyes flashed dangerously as he invaded her personal space, looming over her. Reflexively, she strained to her full height, hating that he was still taller than her, even with heels. One could hardly intimidate someone when they were shorter. By the scowl he had plastered on his face, she could tell he was visibly angry and frustrated by the time it took to get what he wanted. It only brought out her own irritation at his attitude; she'd had more than enough of his attempts at bullying her. The day had thrown her enough to deal with without his temper tantrums.

"I know you don't like ass-kissing, Agent Gibbs," she said in icy tones, giving him her own version of the Gibbs-glare, "so let those who can do it better than you take the time they need. I know you can't pace yourself, but barging into my office will not make that warrant appear as if by magic on your desk!" she barked.

Gibbs only grew angrier at her tone and words, gazing down at her coolly. . "If I recall, you can't pace yourself either, Jen." he remarked irately. "I need that warrant. If that bastard walks because you people like bureaucracy more than you do putting away criminals, I'm holding you responsible." he said.

"Are you threatening me, Gibbs?" Jen dared him, glaring up at him.

"Of course not, Director." he said, his glare matching hers, then he stormed out of her room for the second time that day. This time, he slammed the door shut behind him.

It took Jenny a few minutes to compose herself and calm herself down after he had left. Sometimes, he could make her so furious! However, she reminded herself, she had a schedule to keep. One that would not wait on Gibbs' fancies and demands.

_Honestly, he can be such a child..._ she thought to herself with a sigh, aware that he was only keen to do his job. Still. She would blame their argument on him for the moment, calm down, then pretend that it never happened. She knew he did the same. It was the only way they could keep working together, when such small arguments happened on a weekly basis, at least. Neither was worse off for it, though she suspected he was the main reason she still had a bottle of bourbon in her office.

With a sigh, Jenny locked her office behind her, left instructions for Cynthia in case she was needed and called the elevator. Over the hand rail, her eyes met Jethro's, both still fuming. Amidst the anger, however, both sensed the other also felt regret for their argument earlier and, so, when Jen stepped into the elevator and the doors closed I front of her, she felt slightly better for knowing he didn't hold it against her. As Director, she shouldn't have given a damn. As Jenny, she gave too much of one.

Her security detail was waiting for her when those metallic doors opened once more, escorting her to her car, then driving her off towards her appointment. Though she was in no mood for pleasantries and political chit-chat, the Director knew more than to jeopardize public relations because one of her subordinates saw fit to doubt her authority. It really infuriated her when he did that.

Twenty minutes later, she was seated with the Senator, a fake smile on her face as she exchanged greetings. The redhead found it difficult, but she succeeded in getting through the lunch date without texting her assistant under the table to bail her out with some urgent excuse. Still, she was utterly relieved when she finally parted from the man, stepping into her black car once more.

Inside, Jen relaxed on the comfortable leather, her head leaned against the tinted windows. She was working on three hours' sleep and was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open. _I need coffee._ She thought to herself as her driver pulled out of the deluxe hotel's parking and took the road back towards NCIS Headquarters. She felt herself relaxing even further, trusting her agents to rouse her once they arrived in the navy Yard's underground garage. As they sped down the main street, she allowed her mind to wander over the events of the day, jaw clenching as she remembered Jethro's threat. An hour of boredom had taken the edge off her fury; now she was just mildly irritated. She thanked her lucky stars for that; if she couldn't calm down quickly after every single argument she had with Jethro, she was sure she'd have a heart attack before she turned fourty-five.

She was roused abruptly from her reverie when she heard the sharp squeal of their brakes. Her momentum carried her forward right into the leather seat in front of her. She let out a grunt as her forehead hit the headrest. Before she could come to her senses and pick herself up, another crash followed to her door. Jen heard the crash, then knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: 'Lo, folks! Thank you for your wonderful reviews/ favorites/ story alerts! They really do mean a lot. I'm somewhat obsessed with this story right now, so expect very frequent updates. I can't promise how long they'll be (I'm ashamed to admit I like cliffhangers), but I'll do my best._

_I'd also like to thank my beta, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs (I think you lotknow her somewhat xD)_

_Disclaimer: See first chapter._

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><p><span>Chapter Two<span>

The first thing Jen knew when she began to regain consciousness was a deep, throbbing pain that permeated every cell of her being. For what felt like eons, she could only lie motionless, wishing for the agony to end. Several times she slipped back into oblivion, where she was protected from the torture her body was providing. Gradually, the pain started to recede. As a warm numbness spread along her limbs in its place, her other senses began to reawaken. Soon, faint sounds reached her ears.

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

In the beginning, they were incoherent, vague. As her mind began to focus, however, the sounds turned into familiar noises and words, the words into meaning. The scent of disinfectant hit her nostrils and, in a sudden flash of understanding, she realized that she was in a hospital. Continuing its revelations, her brain informed her that she was lying on an uncomfortable hospital bed. She couldn't feel a breeze, so the window must be closed – she'd be in a private room, of course. It was dark, so it must be nighttime. And, finally, she was in pain because she'd been in an accident.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep..._

The rhythmic beeping noises that she'd been vaguely aware of sprang into life, filling the heavy air with their sharp, alarming noises. Jen's breath hitched as she remembered the trauma of the car crash; how she'd been flung first against the leather seat, then across the back seat as a car crashed right at her side. In memory, some wound on her side stabbed her with acute pain. Reflexively, she felt her face muscles clamp in a grimace.

"Director Shepard?" she heard a soft, female voice at her side. By now, Jen's breath was coming in sort gasps. The sheets around her felt suddenly too tight, as if they were smothering the life out of her. She gasped once, more desperately, for air, though her lungs never seemed to be more than a third full. Her arms started to fight the covers, trying to rip them away from her body. Firmly, what must have been the nurse grabbed her arm and, pinning it down, stuck her upper arm with a needle.

"It's OK, Director Shepard. You can relax now; you're safe." the nurse informed her quietly. The woman – for the voice was unmistakably female – rubbed the area she'd prickled lightly, then readjusted the blankets the redheaded woman in front of her hand managed to throw off her. Jenny was hardly aware of all this. Very, very gently, she felt her body relaxing, sinking heavily into the mattress that now felt as soft as a pillow...

Unknown to her, a man was sitting on her other side, watching her as she went into a panic attack. When the nurse sedated her, Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. It hurt far more than he'd expected, seeing her first so helpless, then so distressed. Ruefully, he wondered if that's how she had felt when she had sat by his side as he lay in a coma. Or was it worse, later, when he couldn't even remember her? He prayed to God that he wouldn't have to find out,prayed that Jen – _his_Jen – wouldn't have to go through amnesia. What was worse about waiting, however, was knowing that there was absolutely nothing that he could do to help. They wouldn't even know the extent of the damage until she woke up.

The federal agent was distracted from his sombre thoughts by the shrill trill of his cellphone. With one longing glance at Jen, he pushed himself out of the uncomfortable hospital chair and walked to the window, answering his phone in the process.

"Yeah, Gibbs." he stated, a little more flatly than usual.

_"Yeah, Boss." _came the voice of Timothy McGee. Gibbs sighed silently as the young agent typed on his keyboard. _"I got the background check on the two drivers. They both look clean."_ Gibbs tightened his hand on the phone, unsure yet if that was a good or bad outcome, yet. _"The first driver, the one that Special Agent Mercury had to break to avoid, is Thomas Moore, an up and coming businessman. He's got no history of crime or any petty offenses. Seems that he'd just bought a new car and was showing off for the girlfriend and went over the speed limit. He turned himself in and was issued a heavy fine and ten days of community labor."_ Gibbs just listened; this information didn't particularly interest him. _"Now, the second driver is one Sarah Connors. Nothing special here. Divorced mother of two, lives near Shepard Park and works as a waitress at McDonald's. As you know, she survived the crash and Ducky says she had no wounds to suggest foul play. Her breaks didn't work under the speed she was at – old car. Abby's looking over it for anything 'hinky', but doesn't think she'll find anything. Boss?"_

Gibbs had remained silent as he absorbed the information. It seemed highly unlikely that the Director of NCIS would wind up in a car accident out of 'luck' but, then again, accidents did happen all the time. Still, it was very hard to accept that his old partner's injuries were a coincidence. In their line of work, one learned to distrust coincidences like they distrusted Ali Baba.

"Detailed history on the first driver. Where he's been, who he's called. I want you to get every single bit of dirt on him. Where does he work? What connections does he have?" he said, on the verge of losing his temper for the second time that day.

_"Got it, Boss."_McGee answered and Gibbs hung up. With a sigh, the agent turned back to regard his old partner. His heart twinged painfully at how very fragile she looked. Her skin was deathly pale against her vivid hair. She'd broken her right hand when the car crashed into her side door and had further cracked her shoulder when she hit the opposite exit. There were several bruises covering her,including a nasty one the size of a chestnut on her cheekbone. The rest, however, were minor cuts on her right side that wouldn't take long to heal. She'd been lucky to escape with her life, the EMTs had said. Especially considering that she hadn't been wearing her seat belt.

"Ah, Jen." he sighed, going to her and stroking a finger gently along her unbruised cheek. Quietly, he sat down in the chair and pulled it closer to her so that he could hold her hand.

The sedative didn't wear off for several hours. Gibbs was so absorbed in his own thoughts and guilt that he didn't notice her stirring. What drew him out of his reverie was the spike on her heart monitor.

_Beep... beep... beep..._

"Jen?" he called softly as the redhead groaned."Sh, it's alright." he said, not wanting her to go int another panic attack.

"Jethro...?" she asked woozily, still pretty groggy after the sedative. Despite the circumstances, Gibbs had to smirk slightly at the confused expression on her face. For a moment, she looked very cute.

"Yeah." he answered. "I'm here. Try not to move too much. Ya got beaten up pretty bad, Jen."

"I can tell..." she said, groaning again as she felt control of her body slowly start to return to her. Gibbs patted her knee gently in sympathy, but was glad she couldn't see his grin. It was a great relief, knowing that she wasn't suffering from any head trauma.

"Any sign of a concussion, Jen?" he asked her, wanting to stay alone with her for as long as possible before he notified a nurse she was awake.

"Don't know." was her answer as her hand touched her face. She winced and Gibbs could hear the hiss of pain as she prodded her bad cheekbone and the cut above her right eye. "Careful you don't poke somethin' out." he warned.

"Bite me.." she grumbled, not in the mood for his teasing. With a sigh, she let her hand drop back on top of the covers. Her eyes opened hesitantly, blinking up at the ceiling. Gibbs looked down at her, admiring the soft green in them, but curious as to why she didn't turn to him. With a frown, he noticed her breath hitch slightly and her uninjured arm clutched the bedclothes.

"Jethro," she said in a low, urgent voice. He had to bend closer to hear her. It was then that he noticed how her heart monitor had picked up, along with her erratic breathing. "What time is it?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

_"What time is it?"_she repeated urgently, irritation slipping into her voice. Now she was panting and he wondered if he had to call a nurse.

"'Bout four. Why, Jen?"

"In the morning?" she demanded, a sob now lodged in her throat. Gibbs was growing increasingly concerned. He reached out to touch her, but she jumped like he had electrocuted her.

"No, Jen, the afternoon. _Why?_ Tell me _why_." he demanded of her softly, trying to get her to look at him. She didn't turn to him. Instead, the sob she'd been trying to swallow broke past her lips and she shuddered violently.

"Jethro." she gasped, her back arching slightly as she tried desperately to fill her lungs. "Jethro! _I can't see!"_

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbee-_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Again, I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews etc. ^_^ You guys rock. I know I promised frequent updates. However, it just hit me how massive the research is for this piece. I can pull some things from experience, but most of the methods Jen will have to get used to are foreign to me. So do bear with me. ,_

_Warning: Lots of medical-related procedures ahead._

_Lots of thanks to my amazing beta, who's being really awesome (and helpful). ^_^_

_Disclaimer: See first chapter._

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><p><span>Chapter Three<span>

Gibbs almost jogged up the corridor towards Jen's room. Already from a distance, he could already see that something was different; the black-clad agents she had as her security detail – easily discernible against the white walls and floor – were absent from outside her room. Gibbs drew to a halt, his heart hammering as he tried to make sense of the change. Her security detail would never leave Jen. So where were they?

His blood had run cold when, only two hours earlier, Jen had woken up and crashed. He had felt utterly helpless as the heart monitor went into a frenzy that someone had dubbed 'v-tach'. Nurses and doctors had pooled in. Unceremoniously, he'd been shoved to the side while a doctor pulled out the defibrillators. Once, twice, thrice they had had to shock her before her back arched and the beeps returned to their normal pace. Only then did Jethro let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His legs had buckled under him and he'd sunk into a hard chair that had sat against the wall.

The nurses had stabilized the red-head, hooking up a second bag to her IV. When Gibbs had told them what Jen had said before going into shock, her doctor frowned and began to check her eyes. At that point, a nurse had suggested he go out to get some fresh air; she'd be out for a while.

And Gibbs had done exactly that. The heavy atmosphere in the room felt almost suffocating. He couldn't stand to see Jen so weak any longer. Quietly, he slipped out of the room, past her security detail and had returned to the Navy Yard, hoping to take his mind off her, if for but a moment. The way he saw it, they weren't involved. She was simply his boss and nothing more. They might once have been old partners, but the incident with the Frog had shaken their friendship badly.

"Boss?" Tony asked as Gibbs walked into the bullpen, eyebrows furrowed together. "Didn't expect to see you so soon. Not with the Director in..." He faded out, seeing the glare Gibbs had shot him. "Shutting up, Boss."

"Boss," McGee ventured as soon as Gibbs stopped glaring at Tony. The younger agent was chary of earning similar treatment, but he knew he had to appease his boss before he started on his case about not working. "Thomas Moore appears to be clean. I've gone through every byte of data on his computer, every call on his cellphone and every business interaction he's ever had. Nothing comes up. The darkest skeleton I can find in this guy's closet is $2,000 tax evasion in '06."A resounding _thump_met his words as Gibbs slapped his hand onto his desk.

"That all you can come up with?" he demanded of his three agents, who recoiled in shock. It might not have been unlike Gibbs to yell if the case got personal enough, but was their boss angry the crash had been an accident?

"Gibbs, not everything is planned." Ziva said slowly, her thick eyebrows pushed together in thought as she attempted to figure out what was really upsetting her team leader so much.

"Damn it, Ziva!" Gibbs exclaimed angrily, again hitting his desk. "We better get that bastard for something more than ignoring a red light!" he snarled, eyes narrowed in fury.

Silence met his outburst for a few seconds as the agents glanced amongst each other. Ziva was the first to put two and two together, as she was the one who knew Jenny and thus, Gibbs, more. "Why, Gibbs?" When the older man just threw her a glare, she crossed her arms, her expression remaining stoic. "What's wrong with Jenny?" her question caught the other two by surprise; neither had yet suspected that Gibbs just wanted to kill the careless driver. When Gibbs grabbed his cell and gun, stalking past them all, Ziva called after him again, but to no avail.

The three agents watched as Gibbs slammed his fist against the elevator button, then entered the small, metallic room.

"D'you reckon the Director's all right?" Tony asked quietly, frowning.

"Tony, I do not know." Ziva answered quietly. All they could do was stand still, trying to process what they'd just seen.

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><p>"Agent Gibbs?"<p>

The man in question spun around as his name was called, panic clear in his eyes. The one addressing him smiled calmly – hazily he recognized the nurse as the one who had briefed him on Jen's preliminary injuries.

"Where is she?" Gibbs hadn't meant to be rude, but he didn't feel much inclined towards pleasantries when he didn't know what was happening – or had happened – to Jen. For all he knew, she was down in the morgue and that damned woman was smiling just for his sake.

The nurse wasn't fazed by his abruptness; he didn't seem the type of man to beat about the bush and, under the circumstances, she would allow leeway due to his worry. "There is no need to be alarmed," she started in the most soothing tones she could manage, "Director Shepard awakened and was taken into an examination room to check her eyes." she explained. Gibbs visibly relaxed at her words, but was still on his guard. "I could escort you to them, if you would like?" she offered. She had other patients to take care of; he didn't fit into that category. Faintly, Gibbs nodded and followed the small woman down the corridor and through a maze of wards he soon lost track of.

The nurse led him down a flight of stairs and pushed open a set of doors, waiting for him. Gibbs paused for a moment as he looked at the sign above the doorway: _Ophthalmology._With a gulp, he followed her in.

Here, the ward deviated from the standard-procedure white-on-white. It seemed whoever had designed the hospital had a sick sense of humor. Here, where many patients couldn't appreciate them, paintings were hung on the walls, which were painted a war orange instead of white. Perhaps he was being harsh- after all, not all patients with vision problems were doomed to a neverending darkness.

Carefully, he headed down the bright corridor after the nurse, who stopped in front of a closed door. Gibbs nodded as he saw the agents that were protecting the Director next to her, looking quite anxious.

"Medical Examination Room #4." the nurse told him and knocked politely. "Doctor, Agent Gibbs is here." she announced him, then left him with the other agents.

"Any trouble?" Gibbs asked, aware he was only stalling. When they shook their heads he sighed and headed in, fearful of what he would see.

The room was dark on the inside, the curtains pulled closed to keep out the last dying rays of the sun. Gibbs could make out one of those black tables doctors had you lie down on against the far wall, a strange lamp-like device attached over it, turned off. A desk was not far away, with a couch and an uncomfortable looking chair on the other side of the room. The walls were plastered with mirrors, charts and what looked like a white card with numbers and letters on it in different sizes, from larger to smaller.

Still, his gaze was drawn to Jenny and her doctor in the middle of the room. The two sat with another doctor, presumably an ophthalmologist, at what appeared to be a strange table. Jen sat on one side in a wheelchair, leaning slightly forward. Her chin rested on a plastic, paper-covered platform that seemed to be part of a larger device. The small tray was situated in the middle of a large, square frame made of slender metal and cables. As her head rested in place, forehead leaned against a strap that was tied between the two sides of the frame, the ophthalmologist adjusted the height her head was at. On a small metal platform in front of her rested the other half of the device; a black, metallic cylinder the size of his hand. It had two small mirrors mounted on it that reflected the bright light cast from a source he couldn't quite see. Next to the tower, a black pair of binocular-looking scopes were allowing the doctor to peer into Jen's eyes, helped by the bright light being shone into them. Gibbs' eyes hurt just from looking at that light from afar- Jen, however, didn't seem bothered by it.

"Corneas are looking good." he reported to he overseeing doctor. "I don't see any damage to the blood vessels, either. Her interocular pressure's 14.5 mmHg, which is perfectly normal. I'll have a look at her retinas, but, structurally, I can't see any damage." As Gibbs approached, placing a hand against Jen's back, he felt her shaking slightly. If he strained to hear, he could just make out a faint whimpering noise. Whether the ophthalmologist had noticed or not, he turned to her and coughed lightly."Don't worry, Ma'am. A retina displacement would explain your sudden loss of vision. Allow me to check." Jen nodded her permission. Gibbs suspected she was hardly conscious of the movement. She looked as if she felt utterly numb.

Her doctor gently wheeled her away from the table and towards the lone chair. In the meantime, her ophthalmologist removed a helmet from a drawer at the desk, as well as a slender box. Once he had worn the headgear, Gibbs was strongly reminded of miners; the device was the bare skeleton of a helmet with a powerful light at the front, similar to what miners would wear. Out of the box he selected a thick magnifying lens, placing it in front of Jen's eye. She flinched when he touched her forehead to steady his hand, but said not a word. He then shone the light through the lens, presumably seeing back to her retinas. It only took him a few minutes in total to check both eyes.

With a disappointed sigh, he turned off the light and replaced his equipment. "Well, both retinas are looking good. In fact, your eyes are looking perfectly healthy." he told Jen. Gibbs saw her bit her lip, her uninjured hand clenching in her lap as she leaned back in the wheelchair. His hand at her back began rubbing it soothingly.

"Then why can't I see?" Though her tone wasn't as strong and commanding as usual, Gibbs was glad to hear her stubborn attitude retuning. She might have been shaky, but his Jen was starting to recover from the shock.

"We're not sure yet-" the doctor began, but she cut him short.

"Then _be_sure. I have an agency to run and it won't wait for you to put your degrees to some use and discover what's wrong with me!" she snapped. At that, Gibbs couldn't help but smirk. The rubbing at her back turned into a light pat.

Her supervising doctor sighed. "Director Shepard, I'm aware that you are frustrated and have duties to return to. However, you just went into tachycardia and are still experiencing serious vision problems. You are still far from leaving this hospital. Now," he said, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to speak, "I am also aware that your loss of vision is alarming you. It's perfectly natural. However, I assure you that there's a possibility your vision loss will be temporary. Such a shock isn't entirely uncommon after head trauma. Still, we will schedule an MRI in the morning to have a look at what's going on in your head."

Jen sighed and nodded, looking defeated. Jethro wished he could say something to ease her worry, but he couldn't speak in front of her doctors. "Very well." she told them.

"Now, I recommend you have something to eat and rest." the doctor told her, walking over and grasping the handles of her wheelchair. Gibbs removed his hand from her back as he began to lead her back towards her room, using the elevator instead of the stairs he'd come down. Both of them were silent during the journey back to her room.

Once Jen was settled back in her bed, Gibbs sat down by her side. She hung her head, not because she was looking into her lap as she might normally have done, but because she didn't want him to read her expression when she could no longer read his. He coldn't even imagine what it must feel like to suddenly lose your vision, to not know what was coming and from where. He didn't blame her at all for freaking earlier. Only wished he could have helped her more.

"Jen," he said softly, hoping to catch her attention. "I'm going to reach for your hand." She nodded and, carefully, he took her hand in his, rubbing her cold fingers. He'd normally not have warned her, but it hadn't escaped his notice how she had jumped when the doctor had touched her. He figured she was right to be jumpy; people usually were when they were touched and not expecting it.

For a while, they sat in silence. Gibbs pretended to ignore the slight sobs that were starting to shake her hunched frame. He knew he was intruding in her pain but, as long as she didn't want to share it and let him help her, he couldn't. The nurse bringing her dinner found them like that. First, she knocked on the door, smiling faintly at the two.

"Hello, dear," she said in a cheery tone. She knew that being positive was very helpful for such patients. "I'm going to wheel over a table for you." she said, pushing a portable table Gibbs remembered form his own days in the hospital. It was a slab of wood supported by two metal rods on one end that could be wheeled to hang over the bed. As it could be adjusted for any height, it served as both a dinner table and as a place to leave personal belongings.

Jen only leaned back as she placed the dinner tray down in front of her. Gibbs had to smirk sympathetically; the food left much to be desired. He knew she would have preferred something wholesome, like a steak, of even some of those pesky vegetables she used to make him eat. Anything other than this colorless, boiled fish.

"Now, dear," the nurse said, reaching for Jen's hand. "Knife, fork, glass- _oh!_" As she presumed to show Jen where the things were, the redhead tugged her hand free, knocking the glass over in the process. The plastic cup fell to the floor, spilling water on the sheets and the floor. Jen didn't seem to care.

"Thank you." she said stiffly, her hand clenched in anger. The nurse picked the cup up and left silently. Angrily, Jen fumbled for the tableware. It took her fingers a few tries to find the correct utensil. Still fuming, she poked at the tray in front of her, hitting the plate time and time again before she actually found where the piece of fish was. Once she had some scooped on her fork, she lifted it towards her mouth, leaned forwards. Gibbs' breath caught as the piece of food fell from her fork onto the tray. Oblivious, Jen's lips closed around the empty fork. A heartbeat later, she set it down slowly and hung her head again. She was shaking, in anger, Gibbs thought. However, once he looked closer, he realized that she was crying silently, big, fat drops of moisture streaking down her cheeks and falling onto the table.

"Oh, Jen..." he said softly and pulled her into a hug.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks, everyone. ^_^ You really do make me warm and fuzzy tonight. Ou have Liz to thank for tonight's update – otherwise I'd have put it up in my morning. She said she'd post her reaction in the review, and I'm far too curious to put this off._

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

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><p><span>Chapter Four<span>

The morning found the two old partners in an examination room, preparing for the MRI. Gibbs sat next to Jenny, his hand resting on one of the wheelchair's arms so that she could hold it. Both pretended her grip wasn't death-like.

Gibbs had been doing a lot of pretending in the last ten hours.

After helping her with dinner the previous night, he had risen and shut the door. After a small pause, he'd also turned the lights off, making a noisy show about it. Secretly, he hoped that she'd feel more comfortable with the lights off, as she wouldn't be the only one in the dark. It had seemed to work; Jen had let out a soft sigh and lain back down on the bed, turning onto her good arm and, incidentally, away from him. Gibbs had just shaken his head and pulled the cover over her shoulders. He himself had planned on spending the night in the chair.

"'Night, Jen." he had said when he sat down, looking at her small figure. She had seemed so fragile and wounded.

"Mm." was all she had said in reply. He had sat, watching her and wondering what they were going to do. Part of him wanted to hope the MRI would show something simple and curable, while the other part of him didn't even want to think about the procedure. Sleep had found him in that position, only to awaken later in the night. He couldn't judge how much later though, judging by the darkness, it couldn't have been more than a few hours.

At first, as the drowsiness slowly started to wear off, he was confused by a soft hissing sound. He looked around the room and outside the window to the corridor, but couldn't see anything that would produce such a sound. Finally, as he woke up completely, he realized the small sounds were coming from Jen as she sobbed quietly into her pillow. His initial thought was to scoop her into his arms, but the entirely personal and private nature of her tears kept him back, sitting haplessly by and watching her cry her heart out.

He hadn't slept any more that night.

Now, in the sterile, unfriendly exam room, both looked worn and tired. Gibbs could have sword he saw goose-pimples on Jen's arms that may or may not have been due to her thin hospital gown.

"... and you have no body piercings, permanent tattoos or prosthetic body transplants?" the doctor was asking. Gibbs blinked, trying to focus back on what Dr. Cameron, as he was apparently called, was asking Jen. He had been having trouble focusing. He wanted to blame it on the lack of sleep and acceptable caffeine, but he was sure worry was playing some part in it. Judging by Jen's startled expression, she wasn't much better off than him.

"N-no." she answered in a slightly hoarse voice, then cleared her throat and repeated herself. "No piercings, tattoos, or anything else that could be affected by the magnetic rays." she told her doctor.

"No metal fillings in your teeth?" he persisted."You'd be surprised what might contain metal."

"No, none..." she said and sighed, rubbing her forehead. Again, Jethro noticed how she had bowed her head, as if hiding. From what, he didn't know. The bruise on her cheek still stood out, just daring him to reach out and touch it. He tried not to look at her broken arm and shoulder. This was his Jen, and he hated seeing her in pain.

"Very well." the doctor said. "This way, then, please." he added, turning towards another door. Gibbs took the hint and wheeled Jen after him. If anyone thought it was strange that the senior filed agent spent so much time with her, they didn't say anything. Dr. Cameron led them down a short corridor into another room. Gibbs could see the MRI machine in the center, the enclosed observation chamber to the side. He followed the doctor to the table Jen would have to lie on.

"Agent Gibbs, if you could assist her," Dr. Cameron began, but Jen tutted and stood up, albeit a little unsteadily. The painkillers didn't do wonders for her head.

"I can still walk, Doctor." she told him almost scathingly. "I know what an MRI looks like."

Instinctively, her good hand rose, feeling in front of her gingerly for the table she knew must be close. She only hoped she wasn't looking in the wrong direction,or she would look like a fool. Logic said that she would be wheeled up to it. As they'd entered from the left, the machine would probably have the table open up towards the wall behind her. And as she'd been wheeled there, it would either be in front of her or to her right. Her thinking was rewarded when her hand brushed the metal slab, somewhat to her right. She'd gotten a bit disoriented and must have turned slightly, but she'd found it. Carefully, she sat down on it and lay her head onto the headrest. During her silent search, neither doctor nor Gibbs said anything. She didn't care about the doctor, but she was wondering what Gibbs was thinking of her. Even so, she pushed the thought away when the doctor coughed.

"Very good. Agent Gibbs, you'll have to leave the room so that you're not exposed to the radiation." he told him. Jen held her breath. At first, it seemed like Gibbs wasn't going to move and she could almost imagine the glare he was shooting the 'good doctor'. All too soon, however, she heard him sigh and leave.

"Right outside, Director." he called gruffly as the door closed behind him. Jen would have liked him there for comfort, but had to agree his absence was necessary if he would be at risk. The doctor lay something over her groin, then retreated to the booth she knew existed in such rooms.

"Now, Director Shepard," he addressed her through the speakers in there. "I'm going to slide you into the machine. Please remain as still as possible so that the images will be clear. It'll only take a minute or two. If you feel discomfort of any sort, all out to me. I'll hear you. Are we ready?"

"Ready." she called back in a steady voice she didn't know she could muster. She kept her eyes open as she felt the mechanism under her gear into work. Usually, she kept her eyes closed so that she wouldn't _not _see, but this was different. She knew these machines were tight. Keeping her eyes open made her feel strangely calmer. She couldn't see the tight space she had been placed into, but she felt her breath catch reflexively as the air hissing in and out of her lungs echoed in the chamber. A dull whirling sound resonated around her, causing her strained heart to sped up, but she held in there. She managed to stay as still as she could and not lose it, but she was still very grateful when the machine slid her out again. Wordlessly, she sat up, feeling lightheaded, and found her way back into the wheelchair.

All of a sudden, she felt tired and weak, as if she had run a marathon or strained too much. _You suffered a heart attack just yesterday._ She reminded herself self-deprecatingly. Once out of the machine, she realized her heart hadn't settled back into its normal pace. _Natural._ she told herself. Trying to reassure her own self that it would be alright. _This test might- _will! _- tell me what's wrong. And then they'll fix it. They'll fix it._She kept repeating that to herself, turning it into her own personal mantra. Her fist was clenched in her lap, the knuckles white from the pressure she was putting into it. She heard the doors open and the gentle padding of Jetrho's shoes as he approached her. A warm hand found its way to her shoulder. Gratefully, she reached up and squeezed it. Sounds were becoming clearer now, sharper. She could tell what something was, even if, before, she hadn't even realized there was a difference. It was like Jethro's step. His strides were longer than the doctor's and he placed more weight on his left leg.

"I have the results." Dr. Cameron told the two. The hand on her shoulder tightened, as did her grip on it. That wasn't the tone of a happy man, she thought.

"What is it, doc?" Gibbs asked him. Jen didn't have to see him to know his eyebrows would be slightly raised, blue eyes inquisitive and intense as they gazed at him, lips in a half-frown.

"Dr. Pashton can explain better than I." he told them, beginning to lead the way back. Jen's heart began to sink.

"Jethro?" she called in a small voice only he would hear. Her eyes were wide and shocked, her lips parted in worry. Her heartbeat sounded loud to her own ears, and she could feel the blood pounding at the pressure point in her neck. Her whole body had gone rigid.

"I'm here." Jethro answered, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Lets go hear this, Jen. I'm here. I'll be with you." he told her, stroking her shoulders. Her frame relaxed slightly, but not by much. He couldn't do much else to reassure her any further just then, so began to wheel her after the doctor. As they exited the MRI room and went out into the corridor, he nodded to her security detail, that followed them silently. They never entered the examination rooms, for which he was glad. Jen was under enough stress as it was.

The 'good doctor', as Gibbs was beginning to think of him, led them back up towards her room in the private ward. He paused on the way up, holding a small device which was presumably the alleged 'pager' doctors used nowadays. He ws proven right when, a few minutes later, they entered her hospital room and Dr. Pashton – the ophthalmologist from the day before - was waiting for them.

Gibbs had to help Jen into bed. He was frightened for her, seeing how weak she suddenly appeared. She looked like all the energy had been sucked out of her. Instead, she looked as tired as a much older woman, and probably just as stressed. Before he could ask her how she was, however, the doctors coughed to catch their attention.

"With the MRI we just performed and evidence from the eye tests you were subjected to yesterday-"

_Evidence? What evidence?_Jen thought, startled, and slightly annoyed. Hadn't they been told everything?

"- we have reached a conclusion on what occurred in the accident. In fact, we were almost certain yesterday, but had to confirm it. We thought it best before telling you." Dr. Pashton said. Instinctively, both Jenny and Gibbs held their breaths. The doctor didn't wait for an answer from them. "What we saw yesterday was a slight swelling in the optic nerve; the nerve that connects your eyes to your brain. Alone, it's quite compelling evidence. We always use an MRI scan, however, to ascertain that our diagnosis is indeed, correct." the doctor continued.

_Are they being intentionally vague?_Gibbs growled inwardly, glancing at Jen worriedly.

The two doctors seemed hesitant to continue until Jen spoke up, her voice loud, yet slightly wavering. "Tell me." she commanded in her best Director voice. Gibbs should have known the protective ****façade****would have come up again.

"What we have found," the ophthalmologist began again in a calm voice, "is a haemorrhage in the lower lobes of your brain." he said, causing them both to stiffen. "Inter-cranial pressure rose, damaging your optic nerves from the inside. Your eyes might be fully functional, but the nerve that transmits the image they collect to the brain so you can see is damaged."

"So? What are our options?" Jen demanded in an even stronger Director tone. Gibbs could tell she was unsettling her doctors, for they both shifted uncomfortably before the ophthalmologist spoke up firmly, but calmly.

"I'm afraid we have none, Madame Director. The damage is permanent. You will never see again."

Time froze in the small room. Gibbs thought everything had slowed down, then locked in place for this moment, this unbearably, undeniably unfair moment. His mouth hung open as he stared at the two doctors, a loud buzz in his ears. What happened next, however, seemed to transpire in fast-forward rather than play-back, and it registered with every single one of his senses.

"_No!"_

A piercing scream tore through the air beside him as Jen gasped for a breath, her expression wild, then leaned fully forward so that she was clutching her legs and burst into forceful, uncontrollable tears.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ugh.. My fingers are actually aching from typing so much these last few days. XD Thanks for your reviews, everyone! I'm glad you lot aren't too upset at what happened to jenny. This chapter might make you feel a little better. Maybe._

_Probably not._

_Still! Many thanks to my amazing beta, who's strangely putting up with the emails I'm flooding her inbox with 3 Thanks Liz._

_Disclaimer: See first chapter._

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><p><span>Chapter Five<span>

"Here."

Gibbs' voice was soft as he entered the room again, setting down a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. "Got it from a coffee shop 'round the corner. None of that hospital muck they're tryin' to pass off as coffee." he told her, sitting down by her side. As he took a long drink of his own beverage, he watched her openly. He felt slightly guilty for taking advantage of her inability to catch him, but he had to watch her closely, gauge her reactions.

Jen didn't reach for the cup of coffee in front of her. Instead, she rested against the pillows propping her back up. Just staring into space. Gibbs had made sure to make noise when he placed the cup down, but now he was having doubts. Perhaps she wasn't sure where it was and she didn't want to ask for help. That would be completely like her, he mused. He weighed his options, then decided to take matters into his own hands.

Gently, Jethro reached for her hand that was limply resting on top of the covers. As he clasped it in his and raised it, intending to lead it to the cup, Jen reacted and jerked her hand out of his, folding it against her chest. She turned towards him, following his voice from before, and glared. It was slightly soothing to know that she'd retained facial expressions and could use them at will. Her eyes might have not been able to see, but they were still filled with life in that moment, when her anger overpowered her depression.

"If I want it, I can get it myself." she snapped at him. Gibbs could only withdraw his hand and perch on his chair uncertainly. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle her these days.

A few days had passed since they had gotten the diagnosis. For those first few days, it had been touch and go with Jen. Mostly, she lay unresponsive in bed, looking vacantly up at the ceiling while they tried to get her to talk or to eat. The team had visited, but she hadn't responded, not even for Ziva or Abby. Other times, she would burst into an inexplicable and sudden rage. At those times, she would scream and yell at anyone who was around her- usually Jethro. The ex-marine couldn't do much but sit and bear her tirade. He would never leave her side, even when she got unreasonable, because he had to be there for her when her fury left her. Because then, once her throat was sore with yelling and she was shaking slightly, she would sag back against her pillows and weep bitterly. Only for those times, Gibbs stayed by her side. She wouldn't go through this alone.

It was incredibly hard for him to watch her go from silence, to fury, to misery, but he knew it was necessary for her to heal. He hadn't been able to understand her behavior until a nurse explained one evening while Jen was asleep.

"She's going through the stages of grief." she had explained as she changed the plastic bag her IV was linked up to.

"The what?" he had asked, confused, staring at the redhead, lying peacefully, for once, in bed.

"When a patient receives bad news, they follow a psychological chain-reaction known as the stages of grief. First comes denial, where the patient refuses to accept the reality of his or her situation. Then comes bargaining, where he or she tries to make futile bargains in order to escape their reality, such as a cancer patient offering more money to a doctor." Gibbs had nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. He had been listening intently, but looking at Jen. "Then comes anger, because the patient thinks this shouldn't be happening. Depression follows, which is obvious in itself." she had said briskly, wiping her hands on a paper tissue after securing the new IC bag.

"What's the fifth stage?" Gibbs had asked, apprehension washing over him.

"Acceptance." the nurse had said, smiling warmly at him. Gibbs returned a faint half-smirk, his signature smile.

Thinking over the new information, Gibbs had realized that many pieces were falling into place. He hadn't understood why Jen had refused to accept her blindness was permanent when they first told them, or why she'd asked about better doctors oversees and better treatments here. Her current behavior fell between stages three and four.

For Jen's sake, he could only hope the final stage wasn't far off.

The only good news he could clearly see was that Jen's health was improving fast. The bruises that had been visible before were now a pale yellow color, almost completely faded. Her broken arm and shoulder were healing well and, most importantly, her heart was stable. She hadn't gone into shock or arrhythmia ever since her heart attack and, according to the doctors, she was out of danger. Gibbs had literally felt his body relax when they had told them that just yesterday. Now, he had to focus on getting Jenny back into one piece, emotionally speaking.

"Alright, Jen. Was only tryin' to help." he told her calmly, looking at the redhead. Her arm was tucked against her chest, as if crossing her arms, her lips pursed. By the look of her, he was afraid she was going to start crying again. "Jen..." he called again softly, shifting so that he could sit next to her on the bed. "It's okay to accept help... No one will think less of you if you do"

"Leave me alone, Jethro." Jen replied angrily. She pulled away from his touch when he tried to rub her arm. "You have no idea what it's like." she added accusingly. Tears threatened to overcome her again, but she held them back stubbornly.

"Then tell me, Jen." he replied softly, leaning in closer to whisper in her ear. Startled, though she had felt something as he invaded her personal space, she pushed him away with her good arm. The ex-marine didn't let that deter him. Instead, he clasped her chin in his hand, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb."Tell me what it's like, Jen. Make me understand." Part of him knew he was playing with fire. However, part of him also knew that she had to let it out before it consumed her from within.

Jenny tried to jerk her head away, but he held her in place. "What do you want me to say?" she asked in a loud, slightly wobbly voice that betrayed how angry and how close to tears she really was. "How do you think it's like?" she raged, the color rising in her cheeks. "It's bloody unbearable! I hate it!"

"Why?" Gibbs intervened quickly, pressing her to really let everything out. This was what he had been hoping for; she was finally letting him in to share the burden with her.

"Why do you think?" she shot back, down dangerously close to tears. "It's terrifying! Everything's dark and I can't see anything! I don't know who's coming towards me, or what their expression's like! I can't do _anything!_ I can't do my job, I can't shoot a gun, I can barely even feed myself!" she stormed, the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but yet not falling. "I've had everything I ever worked for taken away from me because some fucking bastard wasn't careful! I'm useless now. How do _you_ think I fucking feel, Jethro? How would _you_feel?"

As she spat the last few words out, her emotions got the better of her and she burst into tears, rocking back and forth as she cried. It nearly broke his heart to see her, normally such a strong woman, break like that right in front of him. She'd been doing far more crying in the past few days than he'd ever wished. Gently, he reached for her again and brought her against his chest. At first, she tried to pull back, but quickly surrendered to his embrace, wrapping her good arm around him as she buried her face into his chest and cried her agony out. Gibbs rubbed her back soothingly and pressed his lips against her hair, just holding her and offering as much comfort as he thought she'd accept.

"Never useless, Jen." he bent his head slightly to whisper in her ear. "Never."

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><p>Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly as Gibbs waited outside in the corridor, checking the clock across from him every few minutes. He wasn't nervous exactly, but simply really wanted to rejoin Jen in her room. He was sitting in one of those uncomfortable armchairs hospitals had, scratchy material and all. Standing nearby were the special agents assigned to Jen's protection detail, as well as several more that had joined them, following a different person.<p>

The SecNav was visiting.

That was mainly the reason Gibbs was anxious. He knew that meeting meant a great deal to Jen; her future would be decided during it. He new she was just as anxious as he; he'd had to help her get ready before the Secretary of the Navy had arrived. She wasn't up to betting she could apply her make-up acceptably enough to be viewed by their superior officer.

He was taken aback as the door to Jen's room suddenly opened. The Secretary stood in the doorway, a hand still on the handle and looking back at Jenny, whom Gibbs couldn't see.

"I wish you a swift recovery, Jenny. Take care." the older man said. Jethro couldn't tell if she had made some gesture in return, but the SecNav seemed satisfied and let the door close. "Gentlemen, we're off." he told his security detail, who immediately stood behind him as he walked off down the corridor. The Secretary only glanced once at Gibbs, but said nothing more. As soon as he was out of sight, Jethro entered the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Jen was sitting in an armchair by her bed, dressed in black trousers, a short sleeved shirt that allowed for her cast and a jacket thrown over her shoulders. She'd asked that he tie her hair back into a low ponytail for her, where it wouldn't fly about embarrassingly. Gibbs tried to gauge her emotions as he approached, but her face was unreadable. He sat down next to her, in the chair SecNav must have just vacated.

"How did it go?" he asked carefully, watching her closely. The redhead in front of him seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before sighing.

"I resigned." she replied in a calm, even voice that lacked its usual fire and verve. It was the sort of voice she acquired, Gibbs had learned, when she was reporting something she didn't want to allow her emotions to seep into her tone.

"You resigned." Gibbs repeated, testing the words to see how they sounded. He had never thought it would come to this. Somehow, he had always thought that the only way she'd ever leave the Director's chair was either by being killed in the line of duty or retiring. She had worked far too hard for her to just quit.

"Yes, Jethro." she answered in that quiet tone that wasn't her at all. Her good hand rose to rub at her forehead wearily. "I had no other option. A bl- a person like me couldn't continue working at my post."

"That's not true, Jen-" Gibbs started to interrupt, not wanting her to give up her life's work just because of this accident.

"Yes." she cut him off, her tone rising a little. "Face it, Jethro, I could never carry on as before. Even if I learned Braille proficiently, it would require a sufficient amount of the Agency's budget just to pay for it all. But who would do paperwork for me until I became proficient? And," she added quickly, sensing he was about to protest, " no, I don't want you or Cynthia reading me my documents until then."

"Jen, you could have Vance step in until-"

"No, Jethro." she interrupted him again and sighed heavily. "Even if I did return, able to do my job, there would be a high risk factor. I would be a high-profile target, and a vulnerable one at that. Remember the time I was held captive at that airport? What if I hadn't understood I was at an airport? I would have died that day, and the Agency would be in turmoil. No," she sighed again, sorrow coloring her voice. "For my sake, and for the sake of the Agency, my resignation is best. Before it's demanded of me by our three-letter friends."

"So that's it?" Jethro wasn't sure why he was angry. He certainly wasn't angry at her, nor at the Secretary. He hated this entire situation, and there were few things he could take it out on. "You just quit?"

"Retired, actually." she replied wearily. "I filed for retirement due to disablement. Not how I thought I'd go." she added quietly, voicing both their thoughts. Gibbs could only look at her as she bowed her head, staring down into her lap.

"Now what, Jen?" he asked her softly. It was the question he was most frightened of. What would happen to her now? He feared the worst, but those thoughts died once she raised her face to look directly at him. The emerald irises were ablaze with pain, sorrow and disappointment, but something had changed. The fierce determination he so loved and admired her for was back in those two, brilliant eyes, seeming to light up her entire being.

"Now, Jethro," she said in a quiet, but strong, voice, "I put my life back together."

And suddenly, he wasn't so worried anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the past chapter! Ill try to update as quickly as possible, but I'm renovating my room and I'll have to remove the furniture from my room soon. Yay.

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

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><p><span>Chapter Six<span>

"... and remember your medication." Dr. Cameron reminded his patient one last time. "Sulfachloramfenichol twice a day, morning and night, in both eyes, just to be safe. And don't be too proud to take the Vicodin if the pain intensifies." he added, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. Over the past few days, he could count several times when the nurses had found her in extreme pain, but still too stubborn to call for any medication.

"I'll see to it that she takes her medication." Gibbs commented with a smirk, earning himself a glare from Jenny. She was getting better and better at pinpointing a person's location based on their voice. He pretended not to notice, however, as did the doctor. The latter was only glad someone else would take care of her, for her own good.

"I'll be fine, doctor." Jen commented irritably, pushing the trepidation threatening to overwhelm her firmly beneath layers of irateness and hostility. "I'm not a high-profile target anymore. The worst thing I'm going to have to deal with is finding the telephone." she snapped. Gibbs stared at his old partner, fighting the urge to bite his lip. He knew it was going to be far harder than that, and that she was well-aware of it. Her stubbornness to undermine the difficulty of her situation both unsettled and worried him. If he knew her – and he did know her – he would say that she was planning on tackling the situation the same way she tackled sex – head-on, roughly and with no pace. Something told him that that wouldn't be good for her.

Dr. Cameron, it seemed, was of a similar opinion. "Sudden visual impairment, especially one as severe as yours, is not easy to deal with, Miss Shepard." he informed her as diplomatically as he could. "You are already aware how even the simplest everyday tasks have become more complicated to perform. I'm sure you will adjust remarkably, but, until then, life will be a constant struggle."

"I'm aware, doctor." Jen interrupted him, pulling her coat on. With the help of a nurse, she was already packed and ready to go as soon as the 'good doctor' finished his speech and told her where to sign. Gibbs had offered to drive her home, a gesture she was grateful for. She always knew she could count on her old partner.

"I'm not sure you are, Miss Shepard." the doctor disagreed. "Many patients such as yourself find it harder to cope with basic tasks than they expected. Chores such as cleaning, cooking and doing the laundry might seem easy now, but in practice, they prove to be too much for someone who is unprepared."

"It's alright." Jen reassured him, a resolute frown on her face. Despite the glum picture his words were painting, she wouldn't let it daunt her. All she wanted was to regain her independence. For that, she had to leave the hospital. Everything else came second. "I have a housekeeper to take care of those tasks for me." she added. "I'll be fine." her jaw was set, her tone firm. To illustrate her point, she closed the coat button at her neck so that the garment wouldn't slip off her shoulders as she walked.

"Jen.." Gibbs protested softly, but the glare she shot him made him fall silent. Part of him wanted to agree with her resolve. After all, he wanted it to be true just as much as she did. The other part, however, told him it was far more complicated than that. Thankfully, the 'good doctor' took over for him.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I will have to disagree with you." he said calmly. "Your housekeeper does not live with you, and thus cannot assist you in all your daily activities."

"Noemi is more than enough to assist me through the day." Jen shot back, growing frustrated. Why wouldn't he just let her leave?

"Maybe for a few hours. But for the remainder of the day, you would be alone, dealing with an issue you are yet unacquainted with. If something were to happen in the middle of the night, how would you contact someone for help?" he asked her.

'With my cellphone, of course." she retorted, then fell silent. The touchscreen on her smartphone would be impossible to operate without her sight. "Or the land line."

"And if you were injured? Would you have the clarity of mind or ability to search for the handset?" he replied, still talking in a calm, professional voice. Some of Jen's steam blew out from under her. Her shoulders sagged as she realized that he was right. She really couldn't manage on her own, not at first, at least. Seeing her demeanor change, the doctor smiled and cleared his throat slightly. "That's why the hospital requires you to have someone staying with you for a while." he informed her. "If you sign for it, a nurse can be sent to live with you at your townhouse."

Gibbs smirked slightly at the shudder that went through Jen. Neither of them particularly liked nurses, but Jen had seen far too much of them as of late to even stomach the idea. "Would the hospital protest if someone else were to stay with her, instead? Someone that's not a nurse?"

"Such as?" the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow. He could already tell where this was going, but he still had to ask.

"Myself." Gibbs answered, eliciting a startled gasp from Jen. He didn't know what made him ask, but it was something in the defeated way Jenny had been standing. He knew how hard her new situation was on her – he was there to see if firsthand. Coupled together with her naturally stubborn personality, he knew she would never open up to a nurse. She needed someone there to support her, someone who knew her well and could tell the difference between a pensive and a brooding silence. Him, in other words.

"If Miss Shepard doesn't have any objections, then that is also acceptable." Dr. Cameron answered the ex-marine, hiding a smile.

"And if I object?" Jen asked sarkily. Just as she had been starting to get her life under control, the decisions were getting taken out of her hands again. The feeling of helplessness and dependence began settling in again, a feeling she was all too familiar with by now.

"Then you would have to either find someone else or accept the nurse." the doctor replied. Jen sighed heavily. There was no choice, and she knew it. She wanted to be discharged as quickly as possible, and this was the price she had to pay; Gibbs sharing her house, watching her stumble, fall and trip like an idiot. As her thoughts began to take a depressing turn, she felt a warm hand envelop hers. Judging by the rough calluses, she knew it was Jethro. A squeeze told her that it would be alright.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so helpless and drowning.

* * *

><p>"We're here."<p>

Gibbs' voice seemed to echo in the car. By the volume of it, she could tell he was half-turned towards her. It had taken longer than usual to make the drive from the hospital to her house. Privately, she suspected Gibbs had been driving at a slower pace so as to not scare her too much. Even so, the drive had been a jarring experience. Every turn and stop, every car horn and tyre screech made her wince and shudder. She might have fastened her seat belt, but the trauma from the accident still hadn't left her entirely. Her healing injuries had begun to throb and ache again, sometimes eliciting gasps and grunts. If Gibbs noticed, he didn't mention it.

To survive the overpowering sensation of being unable to see, and thus evade, any danger, Jen had closed her eyes. Over the past week, she had found that by closing her eyes, she created the illusion of having closed off her vision by choice. It calmed her panic and helped her coordinate her body – one never forgot how to move about with their eyes closed. Additionally, it eased the strain on her eyes. Often, she had caught herself straining her eyes to see past the darkness. It brought bothersome dryness and irritability to her eyes and, according to Gibbs, made her look frightened.

Privately, Jenny thought she had plenty to be frightened about.

The pop of her seat belt being released brought her back to the present. Jethro was being very careful and considerate with her. Making as much noise as he could, he walked over to her side of the car and opened her door for her, helping her out. He was trying very hard to help her pinpoint him in the space surrounding them, but Jen was starting to realize it was unnecessary. She had started to be able to locate him just by the sound of his breathing, or the smell of his aftershave, or by the scent of coffee that clung to his skin and breath. Still, she mentioned none of this to him as he led her up to her door.

"Steps." he warned as they approached the front porch. Obligingly, she raised her foot higher. Her toes just brushed the top of the step, but she didn't stumble over it, something she was thankful for. The sound of her keys jingling in Jethro's hand reached her ears twenty seconds before he unlocked her door and led her inside.

Once Jenny walked inside her childhood home, the feelings of fear and unease diminished significantly. She _knew_this place. She knew the smell of the old wooden furniture, the feel of the wooden floor under her feet. She knew these hallways so well she could navigate them with closed eyes. She knew where the furniture was and had counted how many steps there were on her staircases.

In the familiar, warm environment of her home, Jen knew with more certainty than she had felt ever since the accident that she could do this. She could manage her blindness and beat it. She could have her life back if she tried hard enough to make up for her sudden disability. She had other senses, and she would use them.

As Jethro hesitantly left her in the hall to get her things from the trunk, Jennifer Shepard took a deep breath, breathing in the life of the house around her. She could smell the food Noemi had left them, hear the water rushing through the pipes in the wall. A small smile graced her otherwise worn face, her shoulders squared proudly. A determined step carried her forward towards her living room. When she realized her fingers were tracing the wall, she pulled them back and sped up. This was her house. She would walk through it proudly, as if nothing had changed. Another determined step brought her even closer to the doorway. Then another, and another...

… right into the plastered wall.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi everyone! I'm very, very sorry for the huge delay in updates. At first, I couldn't break the procrastination, and then we started renovating my room and I was 'homeless' Anyway._

_Hope you all think this chapter was worth the wait. Great thanks to Liz, for putting up with me and continuing to show interest (even if I am just piling her with more work) and Ikiko, whose review spurred me on to start this chapter._

_Disclaimer: See first chapter._

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><p><span>Chapter Seven<span>

"Here – put some ice on that."

Gibbs' voice was gentle as he approached the seated redhead. Carefully, he walked up to her front and put a hand on her shoulder to let her know how close he was to her, then took her hand in his other and handed her the icepack. Jen didn't reply as she raised the frozen gel-pack up to her forehead, where a nice bump was beginning to form. Her gaze was lowered towards the linoleum, bowed in embarrassment and, perhaps, shame. It almost broke his heart to see how different she was to earlier that morning. Still, he thought it best to avoid the issue altogether.

"Noemi's left you dinner in the oven," he began, keeping his gaze steady on her to monitor every single minute reaction. "I can warm it up for us as soon as you're hungry." A nod was all he got in reply. "It's still early, though." he continued, trying to fill the silence that was starting to hang over them. "We could watch TV or something." Jen flinched at that suggestion, a fact he instantly regretted. What scared him most, however, was that he couldn't think of a single thing to suggest that didn't require a pair of working eyes.

Jen waited hopefully for a different idea but, when none came, she sighed resolutely and got to her feet. Her embarrassment was starting to wear off slowly, but hesitation was taking its place. When she had first walked into her house, she had been filled with a fierce determination to continue her life exactly where she had left off, to continue as if nothing had happened. Now, she realized, that was an impossible dream, perhaps even a dangerous one. Even in her own home, she would have to adapt and adjust in order to cope with her new deformity.

"Lets go, then." she said in a soft voice, waiting for Gibbs to lead the way into her living room. Her step was short and slow, testing the space in front of her before she moved into it. She reached out with her good arm, waving it around to avoid knocking into things. Both these movements made her feel completely ridiculous. Tears prickled her eyes – tears of helplessness and vulnerability. If Gibbs noticed, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he walked slowly and loudly towards the living room, leading her to the sofa by the arm. At first, he didn't know what to put on. Movies were out of the question, as were soaps, cartoons and reality shows. It didn't help that he had no idea what was actually on – the two of them usually worked at that hour and thus had no idea what was playing. Finally, he smirked in triumph and set the channel to a quiz show he had found, where the image was hardly important. After a few questions, he felt Jen start to relax next to him. He ventured a guess to one question which she corrected, and soon they began answering the questions they knew themselves.

Gibbs looked unashamedly at the woman next to him, smiling softly at how much more relaxed she seemed. She was resting against him, her eyes closed, but she was smiling and answering brightly. Finally, she seemed to have relaxed and allowed herself some peace, even if it was for just a short while. It warmed his heart. Privately, he decided to research her condition as much as possible, as well as things he could do to improve her mood and daily life.

This time, he wouldn't let her struggle alone.

* * *

><p>The remainder of the afternoon passed uneventfully for the two. Gibbs set the table and brought her her food, having arranged the plates in the order she had become accustomed to: water glass on her top right, plate in the middle, cutlery to her left and bread just above. The food was thankfully easy to eat, so she took no further dents to her pride.<p>

Throughout the meal, the two partners were silent, each wrapped in his or her own thoughts. Gibbs was wondering how they would move on now. Spending one single afternoon together had proven to be awkward and difficult. He couldn't imagine how they would handle longer periods of time, like an entire day or even a week. He knew she was feeling useless and vulnerable, but he had to go out at some point and do some independent research. Thinking ahead, he decided to do that during her first meeting with her therapist. In the meantime, he would scout her library for helpful books.

Across from him, Jen's thoughts were on a completely different track. Quite unlike his constructive thoughts, she couldn't help but focus on the negative points; how she couldn't take basic care of herself, how she was afraid to navigate the works around her. Mostly, she worried over the living arrangements. She had a few spare rooms he could choose from, but his staying with her put her on edge. It seemed like it would be a constant struggle for power, a fight for who would stay on top. In her state of mind, she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the great help he'd been to her until that point.

Jethro could tell she was drifting into negative thoughts; her expression had grown darker. On a whim, he reached over and took her hand, making her jump slightly. "Bedtime." he said gruffly. He had to pull her out of it, and quick. One glance at her told him she wouldn't open up if he asked. Chary of driving a block between them, he did the next best thing he could think of. "Shall I run you a bubblebath?"

Even in the negative mood she was in, Jen had to smile at that slightly. He was trying to lift her spirits at least, but she didn't know if it would help. "I can do it myself." she replied defensively. She wasn't quite sure why she was putting up such a fight – it felt right. She felt that she had to prove to him that she really could function on some level without his help. That morning's bump had really dented her pride and confidence. Jethro bit his lip, but agreed with a non-committed grunt.

"I'll clear the table, then." Part of him worried she'd stumble or misstep, but the smarter part of him knew she had to do this for herself. If she messed up, he'd be there to help. But right then, she needed to do it on her own, for her own sake. He had just realized how much that morning had meant to her.

"Thanks." she replied stiffly. She would had walked on, but some part of her stopped her. _You're being rude, Jen. He's doing all he can and you blow him off like that? At least show some gratitude. He's doing this for you._she berated herself. With a sigh, she reached out for him, fingertips feeling through the air in search of his arm. When she just grazed his sleeve, she reached forward to hold on to him properly. By the shifting in his body, she guessed he had turned towards her. "Really." This time, her voice held a gentle warmth.

Jethro looked at his old partner silently, reading her movements and expression. Her face held anxiety and tension, but her green eyes were clear and honest. Their emotions were all he needed to give her his signature half-smirk and grunt softly. In response, Jen returned his smile, even if she couldn't see it, and headed up to her bathroom. The sound of running water started in the kitchen, filling her with warmth.

Reminiscent of that morning, Jen was far more careful as she made her way down the corridor. She traced the walls with her good arm, walking more carefully when she turned corners. She took the stairs slowly, one at a time, counting carefully. Just as she remembered, there were 23 steps – a number she now committed to memory with certainty. Unlike bumping into a wall, falling down the stairs could send her right back into the hospital and cause God only knows what other injuries.

Speaking of injuries, Jen remembered her broken arm and shoulder as she stepped into the bathroom. For a moment, she hesitated at the door, unsure as to how to proceed. She remembered all too clearly what the doctor had told her: _"We will take the cast off in four weeks to see if the bones have healed fully. Until then, do not use the arm, nor get the cast wet; it will ruin it."_Taking a bubblebath would certainly count as 'getting it wet', she figured.

This was a problem.

For several minutes, she only stood there, thinking. That alone was harder than one might think; the painkillers she had taken when leaving the hospital were starting to wear off. A dull throbbing spread through her right side, a similar pounding behind her eyes. _I'll have to take something later. _She thought dully, then sighed. _I'm going to get nowhere like this. There's nothing for it..._With another sigh, she turned towards the staircase and cleared her throat. "Jethro!" she called in a loud, but even tone, hoping he would hear her in the kitchen. Judging from the silence that greeted her – he must have finished the dishes – she supposed he mustn't have heard her. She was about to call again when the sound of his footsteps on the stairs reached her ears.

"Yeah, Jen?" he drawled quietly, walking up to her and standing close to her. She could just imagine how he would lean forward to invade her personal space and tower over her. It had been one of his favorite intimidation techniques. Even now, when she couldn't see his shadow, she felt his body heat radiating close to her. Involuntarily, she shivered.

"I can't use the shower." she explained with some chagrin. Her in the shower wasn't her favorite topic to breach with him. "The doctor said I couldn't get the cast wet for another two weeks."

"How did you take baths at the hospital?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He might've been outside, but he never ventured that far in helping her cope.

"Sponge baths by the nurses." she said in a flat voice. Despite everything, Jethro had to smirk at that. He could only imagine how uncomfortable she would've been. Her blush told him as much.

"And that's not an option now, is it?" he suggested with another smirk. Jen frowned dangerously, then poked him in the stomach with her good arm. Hard.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Jethro." she warned. "No, it is most certainly not an option. But I want to take a bath, and I'm stuck." she sighed, frustrated beyond belief. It wasn't supposed to be this hard! She already had enough on her plate to adjust to without factoring in her fractured bones.

Gibbs watched as she hung her head, hiding her face from his higher vantage point. More than anything else, he wanted to reach out and cup her face, tell her everything would be all right. His hands were itching to do just that. However, for her own sake, he held back. "When Kelly was six, she fell in the playground and broke her arm." he started, eyes never leaving her. He seemed to have piqued her interest. "Shannon and I couldn't figure out how we were supposed to clean her up without getting the cast wet until a doctor solved our problems. Apparently, we just had to wrap the cast in a plastic bag and secure it. Worked wonders for a month." he told her.

Jen looked up fully at that, her expression unreadable. For a few seconds, she seemed to hesitate before setting her jaws and nodding resolutely.

"Jethro, get a large plastic bag."

* * *

><p>Getting Jen into the tub had proven a far harder experience than either of them had expected. More awkward, too. When Gibbs had returned with the plastic bag, he found her without her trousers on, struggling with her shirt. At first, he had gulped at the sight of her bare legs and her underwear, but had been able to focus just enough to help her with her shirt. He had promised her he had closed his eyes. He even had to undo the clasp of her bra for her, something he was sure she would never forgive herself for asking of him.<p>

Afterwards, he had left the bathroom to allow her to deal on her own. After all, there was only so much he could do for her without her modesty getting in the way. Not that he blamed her. He had waited outside on the landing for what must have been at least forty minutes, listening anxiously in case he heard a thud, or any other sound that indicated she might be in trouble. He had waited in vain. Just under an hour later, she had emerged, wrapped in a towel.

"Was your bath good?" he had asked her, fixated on the wet, curly locks of red hair that were stuck to her neck.

"Yes." she had answered. Wordlessly, she had entered her bedroom and had dressed herself. This time, he wasn't needed to clasp her bra, as she would soon be heading to bed. From her movements, Jethro could tell how much the experience had drained from her. She moved slowly and tiredly, head turning this way and that in a futile attempt to protect herself from any unseen danger. He had decided, then, that she couldn't take any more new challenges that night.

Now, however, he was uncertain how to ease that pressure. "Jen?" he asked, knocking on her door. She had yet to come out.

"Come in." she called back in a soft voice. When he opened the door, he saw her lying down on her bed, the lights off. It had almost broken her heart to see her lying to still and pathetic, broken arm being rubbed softly by her good one. This wasn't her, this wasn't his Jenny.

"I wanted to ask you if you needed anything." he inquired softly. His blue eyes were gentle as he gazed at her. He hadn't actually meant to ask her that, but it had sounded better than 'is the pressure getting to you?'.

"No. Thank you." she replied bluntly. She didn't even turn towards him. Not that she wouldn't seen anything different even if she had.

"It's bedtime." he stated. She didn't dispute it. "I'll bring up your medicine." he added. She didn't dispute that, either. She would have preferred not to give into the meds, but that was only her stubborn side talking. She knew she needed them, especially the painkillers. During her bath the pain had receded somewhat, but had now returned in full force. Jethro couldn't have known. Or could he?

Those thoughts were chasing themselves idly around her head as he returned, helping her sit by her good shoulder. "Here." he said, putting two pills in her hand. Vicodin. She took them silently. "Tilt your head back." This was the part she was always nervous about. She obeyed the order numbly, blinking nervously as he opened the bottle. She flinched slightly as his warm, callused hand rested against her cheek, his fingers steadying his hand against her forehead as he held her eyelid opened with one finger. She instantly closed her eye as the drops of antibiotic fell into them, snatching the tissue he had placed in her hand earlier. The process was repeated on her other eye, as well.

She hated this.

Neither said anything as she wiped the excess medicine off her face, then lay down. Gibbs hesitated for a few moments, then bent to kiss her forehead. "I'll sleep in the room opposite this one." he told her. Jen was too tired to answer, too emotionally spent after the events of the day. "If you need anything..." he left it off when he sensed she was no longer paying attention to him. For a while, he sat there, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest. He had thoughtit would take her a long time to fully calm down, but she was still in a matter of minutes. _She __must have really been tired... _he thought to himself. Gently, he rose and went to the door, turning to glance back at her over his shoulder. Her soft form was curled up under the blankets, her eyes closed as her cheek rested on the soft pillow. She looked more peaceful than he'd seen her in a while, albeit tired. For the first time since the accident, she seemed to be resting tranquilly.

The sight made him smile. "Night Jen." he said softly, voice warm with unsaid emotions. Just as he closed the door softly behind him, he could have sworn he heard her say 'night' back.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi again! I'm so,so sorry for taking so long to update. I'll try not to let future chapters take so long again. I have the next few chapters planned, so hopefully won't take so long._

_Disclaimer: See first chapter._

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><p><span>Chapter Eight<span>

_This is so embarrassing. So, so embarrassing._

That's what kept running through Jen's mind as Jethro clasped her bra for her. Once again, she'd requested that he close his eyes, but she only had his word that he'd actually done it. Up to some point, however, she was past caring. It wasn't like he'd never seen her naked before. No. What she found really mortifying was how she had to rely on him to do even the most personal things.

"Done." Gibbs remarked just as she felt the strap hug her body securely. Most men eventually became quire adept at taking a woman's bra off. Jethro, apparently, could do the opposite, too.

"Are you expecting a doggy treat, Jethro?" she snapped slightly. Deep down, she knew she was being unfair. Still, she couldn't help it. She'd woken up in a bad mood that morning, worsened still by the pain resonating through her body. Her muscles ached as she moved even slightly, her head felt somewhat light and, worst of all, her broken arm and shoulder hurt like hell. It felt sore and stiff, even though she was sure she hadn't slept on it during the night. Her pains served only to exacerbate her already poor mood.

"No, Jen." Jethro replied. Jenny could sense his hurt seeping into his voice and sighed. She really was being very unfair. Here Jethro was, doing more than she could have ever asked for, and she was being cynical and ungrateful. Even though she felt like she couldn't be bothered to, she somehow had to cushion her negative impact.

"Sorry." she said softly. "I can dress myself."

"I'll go wait downstairs for Noemi." he answered in a neutral tone. Jen sat still, listening as he got up silently from behind her and left the room. His socked feet made a soft thump as they tread downstairs, turning even softer on the carpet.

"Oh, Jethro." she sighed again, then rose to her own feet. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Mechanically, she reached for the clothes she had left on the bed beside her. It had been tricky at first, picking her clothing, until she remembered that she didn't have to look her best. Identifying a sweater and a pair of jeans by their texture, she pulled both garments on, struggling only on her jeans' button. Over the past two weeks, the difficulty in such a simple task wold have really strained her patience. Now, however, it was just another bother to get over with.

_At least _try_ to be less cynical._She told herself as she followed Jethro downstairs, drawn by the scent of coffee. Before she did anything else, however, she needed to take her medication. As she padded into the kitchen, she heard Jethro put a mug down and shuffle around, presumably towards her.

"There's a mug next to the microwave for you." he said gruffly, yet soothingly. "I also left you a glass of water and your pills. Do you need help with your eyedrops?" Ever thoughtful, ever persistent.

"Thank you." she replied in a soft voice, turning to retrieve the aforementioned pills. She could feel his eyes trailing her. Was her pain really that obvious? She tried not to gulp the Vicodin down, but by then, she was partially trembling from the pain. Waiting for the painkillers to kick in, she sighed and turned to the ex-marine. She knew what he was waiting for, and she hated it with a passion.

"It'll be easier if you sit down." he said quietly. Reluctantly, Jen took a seat at the kitchen table and leaned her head back, trying not to jerk violently as the medicinal drops hit her corneas. Jethro was sweet about it – he didn't mention how quick she was to wipe at her eyes. Instead, he brought over her coffee mug, taking a seat by her. "I have the rest of the week off, but I have to return to work on Monday." he told her.

"Alright." she answered, keeping her tone neutral. Really, she wasn't quite sure how she felt about being alone yet. Still, next week was still a long way away, and Jen wouldn't let herself think about it yet. Instead, she sipped her coffee a little awkwardly, still feeling his eyes on her. "I wonder where Noemi is."

"It's still seven thirty. I'm sure she'll get here." Jethro replied. Both knew their conversation was only covering up the uncomfortable silence, but both where glad for it. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he ventured.

"No." came the curt reply. If she could help it, she wouldn't expose herself to the dangers of the outside world again. Gibbs frowned at the swiftness and firmness of her response, but didn't say anything. Yet. If she continued to refuse going out, he'd have to talk to her.

"Alright. How about we watch some TV?" he asked, making Jen cringe at the effort.

"It's still morning. There won't be anything on other than childish cartoons and cheesy gossip shows." she pointed out. What hurt her most wasn't the TV schedule, but the fact that he'd had to resort to that as a suggestion. They used to be able to do all sorts of things together. Now... now none of them were an option.

Seeing her face and shoulders fall, Jethro thought quickly to avoid the pending emotional disaster. "Then forget the TV." he said as lightly as he could. "Let's go read a book."

Despite her low mood, Jen still found the motivation to look up towards his direction, her mouth hanging open. It didn't matter if she couldn't see him; the motion was just too well programmed into her. She couldn't believe his lack of tact! Just as she was about to answer back with a scathing remark, Jethro reached towards her and pressed his fingers gently over her lips.

"Sh." he said soothingly. The tone of his voice made her suddenly realize he was all too aware of his request. His arms reached for her and he enveloped her in a gentle hug, mindful of her injured arm. "You lie down in my lap and I'll read to you, Jen." he said gruffly into her ear. His thoughtfulness and gentleness brought tears to her eyes. Burying her face into his shoulder, she nodded. She raised her good arm to hold onto his sleeve.

When Noemi arrived, half an hour later, she was at first worried not to find her employer and house guest. She looked on the top floor, then the living room and study. Finally, she heard a deep voice drifting in from the library and pushed the door open slowly. What she saw surprised the old housekeeper.

Her employer was currently lain down on one of the library couches, her head and shoulders resting in the lap of one of her subordinates. He was reading to her from a book in his hand, his other hand in her red hair.

Very, very quietly, Noemi closed the door behind her and tiptoed to the kitchen. She hadn't seen such a relaxed expression on her senora's face in a long, long time.


	9. Notice

**Notice**

Everyone, I'm very sorry for having let this fic go for so long without an update. I've been royally stuck with it, and I'm just gotten back into writing mode. I'll try and update it, soon. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with it and me so far, and I hope you'll continue to follow it after I get my bum down and write. xD


	10. Chapter 9

_Hi, everyone! I know it's been a ridiculous amount of time, but I've got my muse back, I think (hope). I don't know when the next update will be, but I'm looking forward to the next... three to four chapters. I think they're going to be good. 3_

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><p><span>Chapter Nine<span>

Monday morning drew bleak and rainy. Jenny felt rather than saw the cold winds blowing outside as she huddled under her bedcovers, shivering in her pyjamas. _I really don't want to go to work today..._she told herself for a moment, then realized that she didn't have to. She didn't have any work to go to. Along with the cold front that had moved over Washington, that realization was enough to ruin her mood.

With a sigh, Jen pushed the covers back and got up to brush her teeth. It was much easier now to find her way around her bedroom and into the bathroom; after a week, she'd well gotten used to maneuvering in the dark. The dark still frightened her incredibly, but she now felt confident enough to move about her own house. Many tasks were proving almost impossible to do, a fact she didn't let herself dwell on. If it was unpleasant, she simply didn't think about it.

Jethro helped. She had known he would help from the start. To some point, she almost thought it unfair. He was there every step of the way, holding her back when she was going to walk into something, helping her dress, even tying the damned plastic bag around her arm every time she wanted to shower. He helped her with her meds and, most importantly, kept her occupied. If she'd been alone, she would have surely gone crazy. But, with Jethro there, there was someone that cared enough to keep her mind focused on other things than the darkness her life had spiraled down into. She felt almost as if she were taking advantage of him. Every time she felt as if she might start to get emotionally wobbly, she'd make some small movement for him to comfort her. She never asked, and she never returned the favor. It really was unfair. He really was doing everything he could, yet she still snapped at him when her mood wasn't great. And even if she was being an unfair bitch to him, even though he could get up and walk out of the door at any moment, he never did.

He really was too good to her.

"Senora?" came a voice from downstairs. Jen let out a low breath, replacing her toothbrush in the cup inside the bathroom cupboard. At least she wasn't completely alone. She had Noemi, her housekeeper to keep her company until Jethro returned. Well, in all likelihood, the old woman would finish her work before Jethro got back from work. If he caught a case, he might even not be back for hours. She pushed that possibility to the back of her mind; she'd much rather not think about it.

"I'll be right down, Noemi." Jen answered her old friend and slowly made her way back to her bedroom. She was in no mood to dress, but still didn't want to spend the day around the house in her pyjamas. For a few moments, she dithered, then let out a resolute sigh. Like many things over the past few days, this was just one more unpleasant task. Jen had discovered that, more and more often, she was required to do something she really didn't want to, but still had to do it. She had to take her medicine; she had to take her painkillers; she had to carry on with life as if her spirits hadn't been sunk by what she could only call a tragedy.

She didn't like to think of herself as tragic – it seemed so pitiful and dramatic.

_Come on, Jen, don't be so dreary._ She told herself, shaking her head to clear it. _Isn't it amusing how the weather can still get me down without my even seeing it?_ She chuckled slightly, but it didn't do too much to raise her spirits. Still, she was slightly more cheerful than before. _Positive thinking, that's the way. You're stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Just thinking that made her feel a little better. Picking out a vest and sweater, as well as a pair of slacks, she changed into them and into a clean pair of socks before padding downstairs, her hand just skimming the banister, ready to grab hold of it in case she slipped. She didn't, however.

_You're getting used to this._Despite her mood, Jen allowed herself a pleased smirk. She'd be damned if she let this get her down.

That thought giving her a reason to try and cheer herself up, Jen went into the kitchen. Even from the hallway, she could hear Noemi moving about, clattering china and cutlery onto the table.

"Good morning, Senora." her cheerful housekeeper greeted, pouring her her cup of coffee and bringing the tray of medicine to her; Gibbs had readied it before leaving that morning, along with a note to the latina. "How did you sleep?"

"Well enough, Noemi. The weather ruined my day, however." Jen replied, reaching carefully for her mug of coffee. The last thing she needed was to spill her morning lifeline onto the table.

"Si, si. Oh, Senor Gibbs says to remind you of your appointment." she added, bringing her a plate of toast. "He says to call a cab at four to take you to the doctor."

Her appointment.

Instantly, the good mood she'd carefully been nurturing for the past half hour plummeted. Jen had completely forgotten that today was her first session with her psychologist - "helper" as they had called him when they made the appointment. Just the thought of the psychologist, the clinic and the "session" they would have made her shudder; she was in no mood to talk about her new disability, not with Jethro and certainly not with a complete stranger.

"Senora?" Noemi called, noticing her silence. "Oh, it'll be alright, senora. You'll see." the housekeeper said gently, putting a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder. Jen sighed, but nodded, one finger tracing the rim of her mug. Noemi said nothing for a few seconds, then reached forwards and tapped the medicine tray. "Senora should take her medication." she suggested kindly, then returned to readying lunch.

Jen said nothing in reply. For a minute or so, she just continued tracing her cup's rim before she reached for the tray, fumbling with the eyedrops. She managed to get the medication in – practice makes perfect, they say. Wiping her cheek with a paper napkin, she finished her coffee slowly. Usually when she was home during the day, she would work in her study and Noemi would do her own thing with the house. The two didn't mind staying apart yet, today, Jenny really wanted the older woman's company. She didn't say so outright, but stayed at the table. The latina seemed to understand; she kept on a steady stream of chatter about this and that while the redhead remained quiet, drinking in the sound of her voice.

After lunch, Jen moved into the living room and turned on the television, sitting quietly on the couch. The sofa felt wide around her, as if it had gotten bigger. Or, perhaps, it was her that had shrunk into herself. She knew she wasn't eating well. Jethro kept trying to get her to eat more, but she just wasn't in the mood to.

J_ethro..._

She should have guessed. Watching TV was a distraction from the darkness around her only with Jethro. He made it bearable, even enjoyable. Reaching for a cushion, Jen buried her face against it, struggling to hold back the tears. This day hadn't worked out. Jethro had been back at work for only five hours, and already she was breaking apart. Had she really become that pathetic...?

With those morbid thoughts swirling around her head, Jen didn't care when the doorbell rang. Noemi hurried through the hallway to open the door, greeting someone. The answer was soft, so Jen didn't catch it. She recognized the footsteps coming into the living room, though, as well as the voice that addressed her. As the person stopped in front of her, she looked up.

"Jenny." Ziva said in a calm, even voice. "How are you doing?"


End file.
